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iSRSfkkk. Me »«r . tJ aim v afi ?»i ' "./•? v^n.yil W-"^:--•• • ; By '-"'* K " 'r' -::;'W:;: - GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEOK '**' '" ' i' :* 5-'-:' ~-'" « •'• |,// * r-.w.'^ "•'•'••• *•" "v' Copyright by M»ad A Company. IlKv CHAPTER XXIII--Continued. --15-- **1 want yoa to know, Viola dear, before I go away," he said huskily, •that I can and will give you back the name Gwynne, and with my name I give more love than ever any man had for woman before In all this world. I lay my heart at your feet It la yours whether you choose to pick U up or not" She slowly withdrew her hand. Neither of them heard the long, deep •Igh In the darkness beside them. "I dont know what to say to you. Kenny," she murmured, almost inaudibly. "There Is nothing for you to say, Viola, unless you love me. I am sorry If I have distressed you. I only wanted you to know before I go away that I lore you." "I--{ am glad you love me, Kenny. It make9 me very happy. But it Is all •o strange, so unreal. I can't seem to convince myself that it is right for you to love me or for me to love you. 8ome da>, perhaps, It will all straighten itself out in my mtnd and then I will know whether It is love-- the kind of love you want--or just a dear, sweet affection that I feel for you." MI understand," he said gravely. MIt la too soon for you to know. A brother turned into a lover, as if by magic, and you are bewildered. I can only pray that. the time will come when your heart tells you that you love me aa I want you to. and as I love you." They spoke thus freely before the girl's mother, for those were the days when a man's courting was not done surreptitiously. It Is doubtful, however, if they remembered her presence. "There hare been times--" she began, a trace of eagerness in her voice, "when something seemed to tell me that--that I ought to keep away from jrou. I used to have the queerest sensations running all over--" She did Dot complete the sentence; instead, as If in a sudden panic over the nearness of unmaidenly revelations, she somewhat breathlessly began all over again: "I guess it must have been a tS warning, or something." They say there is such a thing as • magnetic current between human Iwtegs." he said. "It was that. Viola. You felt my love laying hold upon you, touching you, caressing you." "The other night, when you held ma so close to you, I--I couldn't think of you as my brother." Out of the darkness spoke Rachel Carter. "You love each other." she said. "There is no use trying to explain or account for your feelings. The day you came here, Kenneth Gwynne, I aaw the handwriting on the wail. I knew that this would happen. It was aa certain as the rising of the sun. It would have been as useless for me to attempt to stop the rising sun as to try to keep you two from falling in love with each other. It was so written long ago." "But, mother, I am not sure--how can you say that I am in love with him when I don't know it myself?" cried Viola. "When you came, Kenneth, I knew that my days were numbered," went on the older woman, leaning forward In her chair. "The truth would have to come out. A force I could not stand op against had entered the field. For want of a better word we will call it Fete. It is useless to fight Fate. If I bad never told you two the truth about yourselves, you would have found It out anyway. You worild have found it out in the touch of your hands. In the leap of the blood, in the strange, mysterious desire of the flesh over which the soul has no control. Tou began loving him, Viola--without knowing lt^-that night at Phlneas Striker's. You--" "How can you say such a thing, mother?" cried Viola hotly. "I was in love with Barry Lapelle at that--" "You were never In love with Barry," broke In her mother calmly. "I think I ought to know when I am In love and when I am not I am going In the house. It Is not for you or anybody else to say I am In love with Kenny. Good night, Kenny." "I came to say good-by," he remind- •«.ber. §he paused with Jier hand on the latch. He heard the little catch in her breath. Then she turned impulsively and came back to him. "I will -miss you, Kenny--I will miss you terribly. Good-by, Kenneth Gwynne." "Good-by, Minda Carter," he said aoftly, and again raised her hand to his lips. "My little Minda grown up to be the most beautiful Queen in all the world." She turned and fled swiftly Into the house. They heard her go racing up the stairs--then a door open and slam •hut again. "She would be very happy tonight, Kenneth, if it were not for one thing," Bald Rachel. "I still stand In tlie way. She cannot give herself to you except at a cost to me. There can be nothing between you until I stand before the world and say there i no reason why J»u should not be married to each other. Do you wonder that she does *pt know her own heart?" "And I would not deserve her love .and trust if I were to ask you to pay Jttiat price, Rachel Carter," said he Steadily. "Good-by, Kenneth," she said, after II moment. She held out her hand. •Will you take my hand--Just this #nce, boy?" He did not hesitate. He grasped the ||ard, toil-worn hand firmly in his. "We can never be friends, Rachel Carter--but, as God is my witness, I Sro no longer your enemy," he said. f. He was half-way down to the gate when she called to him: "Wait, Kenneth. Moil has something for you." • He turned back and met Moll Hawk as she came swiftly toward him. "Here's somethin' fer you to carry In your pocket, Mr. Gwynne," said the girl In her hoarse, low-pitchejl voice. "No harm c'n ever come to you as long as you got this with you--In your pocket er anywheres. Hit's a charm an old Injin chief give my pap when he wo* with the tribe, long before I wui born. Pap lost It the day before he wus tooken up by the sheriff, er else he never would ha' had setch bad luck. I found It day before yesterday when I wui down to the cabin, seein' about movin' our hogs an* chickens an' bosses over to Mis' Gwyn's barn. The only reason the Injun give It to pap Wuz beea'se he wuas over a hundred years old an' didn't want to warn off death no longer. Hit's Just a little rouud stone with somethin' fer all the world like eyes an' nose an' mouth on one side of It--Jest as If hit had been carved out, only hit wuzn't. Hit's Jest natural. Hit keeps off sickness an' death an' bad' luck, Mr. Gwynne. Pap know«»d he wus goln' to ketch the devil the minute he found out he lost- It. I tole Miss VIoly I wanted fer you to have It with you while you wuz off flghtin' the Injuns, an' she said she'd love me to her dyin' day If I would give you the loan of it. Mebby you don't believe in charms an' signs an' all setch stuff, but It can't hurt you to carry It an'--an' hit's best to be on the safe side. Please keep It. Mr. Gwynne." It was a round object no bigger than a hickory nut. He had taken it from i her hand and was running his thumb over Its stirface while she was speaking. He could feel the tiny nose and the little indentations that produced the effect of eyes. "Thank you, Moll," he said, sincerely touched. "It's mighty good of yon. I will bring It back to you, never fear, and I hope that after it has served me faithfully for a little while it may do the same for you till you, too, have seen a hundred and don't want to live any longer. What was It Miss Viola said to you?" "I guess I hadn't ought to said that?" she mumbled. "Anyhow, I ain't goin' to say It over again. Good-by. Mr. Gwynne--and take good keer o' yourself." With that she hurried back to the house, and he, after a glance up at the second-story window which he knew to be Viola's, bent his steps homeward. His saddlebags were already packed, his pistols cleaned and oiled; the longbarreled rifle he had borrowed from the tavern keeper was in prime order for the expedition. Zachariah had gotten out his oldest clothes, his thick riding boots, a linsy shirt and the rough but serviceable buckskin cap that old Mr. Price had hobbled over to the office to give him after the first day of drill with the sententious remark that a "plug hat was a perty thing to perade around in bat it wasn't a very handy sort of a hat to be buried In." •Kenneth's lamp burned far Into the night. Not once but many times he took up from the table a short, legallooking document and re-read Its contents, which were entirely In his own cramped, scholastic hand save for the names of two witnesses at the end. It was his last will and testament, drawn up that very day. Minda Carter., was named therein as his sole legatee-- "Minda Carter, at present known as Viola Gwyn, the daughter of Owen and Rachel Carter." His father had, to all Intents and purposes, cut her off without a penny, an injustice which would be righted in case of his own death. It was near midnight when he blew out the light and threw himself fully dressed upon the bed. Sleep would not come. At last. In desperation, he got up and stole guiltily, self-consciously out Into the yard. Presently he was standing at the fence separating the two yards, his elbows on the top rail, his gloomy,-lovelorn gaze was steadfastly fixed upon Viola's darkened windpw. He" did not know how long he had been standing there when his ear caught the sound of a gently-closlne door. A moment later a dim, shadowy figure appeared at the corner of the house, stood motionless for a few seconds and then came directly toward him. He rubbed ills eyes. "Viola!" he whispered. "Oh, Kenny," fhe faltered, and her voice was low and soft like tlie sighing of the wind. "I--I am so ashamed. What will you think of me for coming out here like this?" The god of Love gave him wings. He' was over the fence, she was in his arms, and he was straining the warm, pliant body close to his bursting breast. His lips were on hers. He felt her stiffen and then relax in swift surrender. Her heart, stilled at ffcst, began to beat tumultuously against his breast; her free arm stole about his neck and tightened as the urge of a sweet, overwhelming passion swept over her. At last she released herself from his embrace and stood with bowed head, her hands pressed to her eyes. "I didn't mean to do It--I didn't mean to do this," ebe was murmuring. "You love me--you" love me," he whispered, Mb voice trembling with joy. He drew her hands down from her eyes and held them tight in his own. "Say you do, Viola--speak the words." "It must be love," she sighed. "What else could make toe feel as I do now --as I did when you were holding me, and kissing me? Oh^oh--yes, I do love you, Kenny. I know it now. I love yon with til my^ao^ V ! She was in his arms again. "But," she panted a little later, "I swear I didn't know it when I came out here, Kenny--I swear I didn't." "6h, yes, you did," he cried triumphantly. "You've know It all the time, only you didn't understand." "I wonder," she mused. Then quickly, shyly: "I ha J no Idea It cOufd come like this--that it would be* like this. I feel so queer. My knees are all trembly--it's the strangest feeling. Now you must let me go, Kenny. I must not stay out here with you. It la terribly late. I--" "I can't let you go yet, dearest. Come! We will sit for a little while on the steps. Don't leave me yet. Viola. It (s all so wonderful, so unbelievable. And to think I was looking up at your window only a few minutes ago, wishing that you would fly down to me. Good heavens! It can't be a dream, can it? All this Is real. Isn't It?" She laughed softly. "It can't be a dream with me, because I haven't even been In bed. I've been sitting up there In my window for hours, looking over at your house. When your light went out, I was terribly lonely. Yes, and I was a little put out with you for going to bed. Then I saw you come and lean on the fence. I knew you were looking up at my window--and I wrt sure that you could see me in spite of the darkness. You never moved--Just stood there with your elbows on the fence, staring up at me. It made me very uncomfortabe, because I was In my nightgown. So I made up my mind to get into bed and pull the coverlet up over my head. But I didn't do It. I put on my dress--everything--shoes and stockings and all--and then I went back to see if you were still there. There you were. You hadn't moved. So I sat down again and watched you. " After awhile I--I-- well, I Just couldn't help creeping downstairs and coming out to--to say good-by to you again, Kenny. You looked so lonesome." "I was lonesome," he said--"terribly lonesome." » She led him to a crudely constructed bench at the foot of a towering elm Whose lower branches swept the fore-corner of the roof. 'Let us sit here, Kenny dear," she said. "It is where I shall come and the hall and was soon asleep, a smile upon her lips, the creases wiped from between her eyes as U by some magic soothing hand. CHAPTER XXIV "What Will You Thintf of Me for Coming Out Here Like This?" sit every night while you are gone away. It will be the trystlng place for our thoughts." "That's wonderful, Viola," he said, Impressed. " 'The trystlng place for our thoughts.' Aye, and that It shall be. Every qight, no matter where my bodjr may go or what peril it may be In, I shall be here beside you in my thoughts." She rested against him, In the crook of his strong right arm, her head against his shoulder, and theylboth fell silent and pensive under the spell of a wondrous enchantment. After a while, she spoke, and there was a note of despair In her voice: What is to become of us, Kenny? What are we to do?" No power on earth can take you away from me now, Minda," he said. "Ah--that's it," she said miserably. "You call me Minda--and still you wonder why I gsk what we are to do." "You njean--about--" "We "can be nothing more to each other than we are now. There Is someone else we must think of. I--I forgot her for a little while, Kenny-- I was so happy that I forgot her." Were'ever two souls so tried as ours," he groaned, and again silence fell between them. Kneeling at the window from which Viola had peered so short a time before, looking down upon the figures under the tree, was Rachel Carter. She could hear their low voices, and her ears, made sharp by pain, caught the rapturous and the forlorn passages breathed upon the still air. She arose stiffly and drew back into the darkness, out of the dim, starlit path, and standing there with fier head high, her arms outspread, she made her solemn vow of self-renunciation. "I have no right to stand between them and happiness. They have done no wrong. They do not deserve to be punished. My mind Is made up." Tomorrow I shall speak. ° God has brought them together. It Is not for me to keep them apart. Aye, tomor- I row I shall speak." Then Rachel Carter, at peace with I herself, went bacjLto her bed across The ending. ; ,v • r. At crack-o'-day Kenneth rode out of his stableyard on Brandy Boy, and went cantering away, followed on foot by the excited Zachariah, bound for the parade ground where the "soldiers" were to concentrate. The rider turned In his saddle to wave farewell to the little group huddled at Rachel's gate--three tall women who waved back to him. Rounding the bend, he sent a swift glance over his shoulder. There was but one figure at the gate now; she blew a kiss to him. Nearly three hundred horsemen taoved out of Lafayette that forenoon amidst the greatest excitement and enthusiasm. Most of them swam their horses across the river, too eager to wait for the snail-like ferry to transport them to the opposite bank. They were fearfully and wonderfully armed and equipped for the expedition. Guns of all descriptions and ages; pistols, axes, kaives and diligently scoured swords; pots and pans and kettles; blankets, knapsacks -and parcels of varying sizes; In all a strange and motley assortment that would have caused a troop of regulars to die of laughter. But the valiant spirit was there. Even the provident and farsighted gentlemen who strapped cumbersome and in some cases voluptuous umbrellas (because of their extraneous contents) across their backs alongside the guns, were no more timorous than their swashbuckling neighbors who scorned the tempest even as they scoffed at the bloodthirsty redskins. Four heavily laden wagons brought up the rear. \ Kenneth Gwynne rode beside the ubiquitous "Judge" Billings, who cheerfully and persuasively sought to "swap" horses with him when not otherwise employed In discoursing upon the vast Inefficiency of certain specifically named officers who rode in all their plump glory at or near the head of the column. He was particularly out of sympathy with a loud-mouthed lieutenant. "Why." said he, "If the captain was to say 'halt' suddenly that feller'd lose Ills mind tryin' to think what to do. No more head on him thiil^a grasshopper. And him up there givln' orders to a lot of bright fellers like you an* me an' the rest of us! By gosh, Fd like to be hidin' around where I could .see the look on the Indian's face that scalps him. The minute he got through scrapin' a little hide an' hair off of the top o' that feller's head he'd be able to see clear down to the back of his Adam's apple." Historians have recorded the experiences and achievements of tjtfs, gallant troop of horse. It is not the intention of the present chronicler to digress. Nine or ten days after they rode out from Lafayette, the majority of the company rode back again and were received with acclaim. As a matter of fact, Black Hawk was at no time near the Indiana border. His operations were confined to northwestern Illinois. Kenneth Gwynne did not go back to Lafayette with the main body of troops; he, decided to Join Captain McGeorge and hlg undaunted little band of adventurers. He would have been amazed, even shocked, could Ije have known all that transpired in Lafaytte on the day following h' departure. He was not to know for many a day, as lr was nearly three weeks after the return of the main body of troops that McGeorge and his little band rode wearily down through the Grand Prairie and entered the town, their approach being heralded by a scout sent on in advance. Kenneth searched eagerly among the crowd on the river bank, seeking the face that had haunted him throughout all the Irksome days and nights; he looked for the beloved one to whom his tjibughts had sped each night for communion at the foot of the blessed elm. She was nowhere?' to be seen. He was bitterly disappointed. As soon as possible he escaped from his comrades and hurried home. There he learned from Rachel Carter herself that Viola had gone away, never to return to Lafayette again. "J I that he leaves half of hts estate, et I cetera, to 'my beloved and faithful companion and helpmate, Rachel, who, with me, has assumed the name of Gwyn for the rest of her life In view of certain circumstances which render the change In the spelling of my name advisable, notwithstanding th^ fact that In signing this, my last will and testament, I recognise the necessity of affixing my true and legal name.* You and I know the sentence by heart. Andrew." "Of course. If the win reads as you say--er--ahem! But It has Just occurred to me. MA. Gwyn, that you are going a little farther than is really necessary in the matter. May I suggest that you are not--er--obliged to reveal the fact that you were never married to him? That, it seems to me, Is quite unnecessary. If, as you say. Js-our object Is merely to set matters Straight so that your daughter and Mr. Gwynne may be free to marry, being In no sense related either by blood or by law--such as would have been the case if you had married Kenneth's father, why, It seems to me you can avoid a great deal of unpleasant notoriety bv--er--leaving out that particular admission." "No," she said, firmly. "Thank yow for your kind advice--but, if you will reflect, It is out of the question. You forget what you have just said. For a lawyer, my dear friend, you are surprisingly simple today." "I see--I see," mumbled the lawyer, mopping his brow. "Of course--er-- you are quite right. You are a very level-headed woman. Quite so. I would have thought of it in another moment or two. You can't leave out that part of It without--er--nullifying the whole object and Intent of your-- --er--ahem!--I was about to say confession, but that Is a nasty word. In other words, unless you acknowledge that you and Robert were nevfr lawfully married, the--er--" "Exactly," she broke In 'crisply. "That is the gist of the matter. Society does not countenance marriage between stepbrother and stepsister. So we will tell the whole truth--or nothing at all." As she was leaving the office, he said to her, with deep feeling: "I suppose yoy realize the consequences, Mrs. Gwyn? It means ostracism for you. You will not have a friend in this town--not a person who will speak to you, aside from the storekeepers who will value your custom and"--he bowed deeply--your humble servant." "I fully appreciate what It means," she responded wearily. "It means that if I continue to hold my head up or dare to look ray neighbor In the face I shall be called brazen as well as corrupt," she went on after a moifient, a sardonic little twist at the corner of her mouth. "Well, so be it. I have thought of all that. Have no fear for me, my friend. I have never been afraid of the dark--so why should I fear the light?" ou're a mighty fine woman," Rachel Gwyn," cried the lawyer, warmly. She frowned as she held out her hand. "None .of that, If you please," she remarked tersely. "Will you have the paper ready for me to sign this afternoon?" "I will submit It to you right :.fter dinner." "You may expect me here at two o'clock. We will then step over to the Free Press and allow Mr Semans to copy the document for his paper." She allowed herself a faint smile. "I daresay he can make room for It, even if he has to subtract a little from his account of the stirring events of yesterday." "Your story will make a great sensation," declared the lawyer, wiping his brow once more. "He can't afford to--er--leave it out." At two o'clock she was in his office again., He read the carefully prepared document to her. "This is like signing your own death warrant, Rachel Gwyn." he said painfully, as she affixed her signature and held up her hand to be sworn. 'No. I am signing a pardon for two guiltless people who are* suffering for the sins of others." 'That reminds me," he began, pursing his lips. "I have been reflecting during your absence. Has it occurred to you that this act of yours is certain to react with grave consequences upon the very people you would--er--befriend? Your daughter will not escape the--er--ignominy of being-- ahem!--of being your daughter, in fact. Young Gwynne will find his position here very greatly affected bj the--er--" "I quite understand all that, Andrew. I am not thinking of the present so much as I am considering the future. The past, so far as we all are Concerned, Is easily disposed of, Dut these two young people have a long life ahead of them. It is not my idea that they shall spend it here in this town--or even in this state. Mid-morning on the day after the troops rode away, Rachel Carter appeared at the office of her lawyer, Andrew Holman. There, In the course of the next hour, she calmly, unreservedly bared the whole story of her life to the astonished and Incredulous gentleman. 0 She did not consult with her daughter before taking this Irrevocable step. She put it beyand her daughter's power to shake the resolution she bad made on the eve of Kenneth's departure; she knew that Viola would cry out against the sacrifice and she was sorely afraid of her own strength in the presence of her daughter's anguish. "1 shall put it all in the paper," she said, regarding the distressed, perspir ing face of the lawyer with a grim, almost taunting smile, as if she actually relished his consternation. "What I want you to do, first off, Andrew, Is to prepare some sort of affidavit, sett^ ng forth the facts, which I Will sign ahd swear to. It needn't be a long document. The shorter the better, Just so it makes everything clear." "But, my dear Mrs. Gwyn. this-- this may dispossess you of every thing," remonstrated the agitated man of law. "The fact that you were never the wife of Robert--" "Your memory needs refreshing," ihe interrupted. "If you will consult Robert Qwyitfa will yoa will discover "You mean yoa will urge i u leave Lafayette forever?" "Certainly." "But if X know Viola--and I think I do--she will refuse to desert yon. As for Gwynne, ha strikes me aa a fellow who would not turn tall ander fire." "In any case, Andrew, it will be for them to decide. Kenneth had already established himself as a lawyer back in the old home town. 1 shall urge him to return to that place with Viola as soon as they are married. His mother was a Blythe. There is no blot upon the name of Blythe. My daughter was born there. Her father was an honest. God-fearing, highly respected man. His name and his memory are untarnished. No man can say aught against the half of Kenneth that is Blythe, nor the half of Viola that Is Carter. I should like the daughter of Owen Carter to go back and live among his people as the wife of the son of Laura Blythe, and to honorably bear the name that was denied roe by a Gwynne." He looked at he# shrewdly for a moment and then, as the full significance of her plan grew upon him, revealing in a flash the motive behind It, he exclaimed: "Well, by gosh, you certainly have done an almighty lot of calculating." "And why shouldn't I? She is my chi!d. Is it likely that I would give myself the worst of everything without seeing to it that she gets the beat of everything? No, my friend; yon must not underrate my intelligence. I will speak plainly to you--but in confidence. This Is between you and me. There Is no love lost between Kenneth Gwynne and me. He hates me and always will, no matter how hard he may try to overcome it. In a different way I hate him. We must not. be where we can see each other. I am sorely afraid that the tender love he now has for Viola would fail to outlast the hatred he feels toward me. I leave you to imagine what that would mean to her. He has' It in bis power to give her a place among his people. He can force them to honor and respect her, and her children will be their children. Do you see? Need I say more?" "You need say nothing more. I understand what you want, Mrs. Gwyn-^- and I must say that you are in a sense Justified. What Is to become of young Gwynne's property here In Aia county?" • "I think I can be trusted to look after It satisfactorily," she said quietly; "perhaps even better than he could do for himself. I am a farm woman." "I thought maybe yon had some notion of buying him out.** "He would not sell to me. His farm Is being properly handled by the present tenant. His lots here In town cannot run away. The time will come when they will be very valuable, or I am no prophetess. There is nothing to keep him here, Andrew, and his interests and my daughter's will be as carefully looked after as my own." "We will be sorry to lose him as a citizen." "If you are ready, we will step over to the Free Press office," she said, without a sign that she had beard his remark. They crossed the square and turned up the first street to the left. This will be a terrible shock to your daughter," said the lawyer, breaking a long silence. "She will survive It," replied Rachel Gwyn sententlously. He laid his hand on her arm. "Will you accept a bit of advice from met" They stopped. "I am not above listening to it," she replied. "My advice is to postpone this action until you are sure of one thing." "And what may that be?" "Kenneth Gwynne's safe return from this foray against the Indians. He may not come back alive." "He will come back alive," said she. in a cool, matter-of-fact tone. "It Is so ordained. I know. Come, we are wasting time. I have much to do between now and nightfall. Bright and early tomorrow morning my daughter and I are leaving town." "Leaving town?" he cried* •astonished. t "I am taking her out in the country-- to the farm. If I can prevent it she shall never put foot in this town again. You: know Phlneas Striker? An honest, loyal man, with a wife as good as gold. When Kenneth Gwynne marches back to town again he will find me here to greet him. I will tell him where to find Viola. Out at Striker's farm, my friend, she will be waiting for him to come and claim his own." A smile be did not understand and never was to' understand played about her lips as she continued dryly, for such was the maimer of this amazing woman: "He will even find that; her wedding gown is quite as much to his fan< it was the diay he met her.' [THE END.] SICK WOMAN MADE HAPPY V. f":v ••• \ FISHERMAN'S FEAT OF ENDURANCE Trawler Remains In Water Eight Hours and Shipmates Merely •, Call Him Tough Man. Some seamen have amazing endurance. I knew a man named All»n who was capsized one winter day with his d<vy mate. Allen's mate clung to the bottom of the dory and mere froze to death. Allen, who had decided early that he was not going to freeze to death in the same way, dropped overboard, reached und^r water for the dory painter, passed it up through the ring in the bow, adjusted it t^ such a length that he could stand in the bight of it up to his chin In water, took a couple of hitches to secure it in the ring and there hung with his body Immersed to his chin, says James B. Connolly. He figured that the water would not lye so cold as the northwester winter wind After eight hours under water he was picked up by his vessel. We may think It a wonderful thing that he' lived through that; the really wonderful thing was that he was entitled to lie In ills bunk a while after what he had gone through; A shipmate fell sick and there was Allen on dpek early next morning to take the sick man's place In a dory. He had had a good night's sleep and a couple of good meals--why should he stay loafing aboard? He went out In the dory. Shipmates did say of Allen that he was what you might call a tough man, which is about as far as one trawler will go In praising another trawler's power. Of endurance.--World's Work. Proverbs. " No matter where you stir a blaze the world will come to warm Its hands. "The snakes can't find a drunken fisherman to bite," says The Whitsett Courier, "and that's why there are ao many Uyi^ snakes now." GIVe Him Time. EttiM--"He doesn't seem to take our engagement a bit seriously." Grace-- "Jack always was reckless. But never mind, dear; he probably will later on." --St Louis Dispatch. The Work of Scouting. Perhaps the most valuable of the things taught the scouts is discipline. Seattle TUnea. Rnytrely Restored to Health by Lydia E. Pmkhun's Vegetable Compound k**6 taken Pfnkham a Vegetable Compound to; I build me up aa I was all run-down, nerous andsick. I ached and hurt all over so that Iwas often com-1 pelled to go to bed, ^ and I had to have moat of my work done. No medicine •eemed to help me; until oneofmyneigh- - bors who was taking the Vegetable Compound insisted on me trying a bottle otiL The medicine helped me from the first, and the best of all is that I can even sew again without that awful, nervous feeling I waa used to having. And I used to take crying spells, with such a blue feeling that 1 cannot explain. Now all that has left' tne. I feel so cheerful, and I have gained in weight, sleep well and eat nearty. Ob ! I wish I had words to ex-" press what this medicine has done for mel I am a housekeeper and do everything from the sewing to the washing now and it doesn't hurt me. You mav - use my letter in any way you wish. 1 will be glad to help any suffering woman to the road of health and happiness."- Mrs. B. F. Bbannon, 404 Travis Ale., Mart. Texas. IV .m- Artutic Mr. Squab--They say that old Farmer Haughtree is a vital figure In this neighborhood. Newt MufHn--Yep. He always makes a great effort to please people. He has had his barn repainted a different color four times in the past year. CORNS Off-No Rain! Doesn't hurt oni bit! Drop a little "Freezone" on an aching corn, instantly that corn stops hurting, than shortly you lift It right off with fingers. Your druggist sells a tiny bottle of "Freezone" for a few cents, sufficient to remove every hard corn, soft corn, or corn between the toes, and the foot calluses, without soreness or irritation. Forest Protection Next to Russia and the United States Canada has tlie largest forest resources in the world. Care Is taken to preserve the timber supply by airplane scouting, wireless telegraphy, portable telephones, power pumps, replanting, prevention of pests, forest product laboratories, strict legislation and Dominion and provincial reserves. Stearns1 Electric Paste^Sfe o Sure Death to Cockroaches, Ants, Waterbngs, Rata, Mice, Bte. Greatest known deatroyeri of food and property] •Ito carrier! of dueaae. Doe* not blow into food like powder*. Ready for uae. Money back if it falla. 35c and $1.50. Enough to kill thousands of roachet »nd ants. Sold by all druggist*. Refuse subftitutea. U. 8. Government Buys It Tit-for-Tat Mother (to her four-,vear-old. who has been sent to his room because he would not say "please")--You . may come out now, Gordon. Gordon--Not till yon say "please/* mother.--Boston Transcript. Sure Relief FOR INDIGESTION Bell-ans Hot water Sure Relief ELL-ANS 254 AND 75i PACKAGES EVERYWHERE Use Cuticura Soap And Ointment To Heal Sore Hands lADKSESTKW Keep Stomach and Bowels Right By (Mag baby tha harmla--, pnrair vae«t*bla. Infanta' and chUdran'i ra*ulatoc. MM.WMSI0«rS SflW brine* astoaiahing, gratifyina raaalts fa making baby'a itomaeh illgaat Stood and bowaia more aa tbajr ahould at teethtaf tima. Goarantaad fna from narcotioa, opiataa, alcohol cjtd alt harmful IngTadi* •eta. Safaaad •atiifaetncr. At AO W CREAM WANTED Higfaaat pricaa Mil Writ* for prieaa and tun.